Tracker Pizza
by avatar5005
Summary: Mel introduces Cole to the joys of eating pizza


            _Author's Note:  This was written in response to a challenge from The Blue Raven, a short vignette to test the waters before writing a longer piece of Tracker fiction.  As for timeline, it has to be sometime before the episode A Made __Man.__   I don't own the characters, visiting them once in a while keeps me sane.  Anyway, feedback feeds my soul._

Mel adjusted the fan in the window, in a vain attempt to circulate air through her hot, muggy apartment above the bar.  If Cole didn't have such a nasty reaction to cold, Mel would happily have the air conditioner turned up full blast.  Cole didn't seem to mind the heat, he was reveling in it.  He was up on the roof performing a Cirronian martial arts kata, concentrating so intensely, he didn't even see her leave.

It was the fifth day of an early summer heat wave.  Wave was a good description as far as Mel was concerned, remembering the shimmering waves of heat on the roof.  She wasn't about to make it worse by cooking.  Reaching for the phone, she dialed up Francesco's to order a deep dish Chicago style pizza, with Italian soda and spumoni ice cream for dessert.

"Was that Vic on the phone, Mel?" Cole asked as he sauntered into the room, "are you going out tonight?"

He was smiling, that big dopey grin he always had when he was happy.  Standing there, he looked way too sexy in a damp tank top and shorts, perspiration beading on his arms, his hair damp and curly on his neck.  Composing herself before she lost what little control she had left, she tossed him a towel.

"No, I've decided it's too hot to cook, so I called and ordered a pizza from Francesco's."

"What is pizza, Mel?" his natural curiosity coming to the fore.

"That's right, you've never had it before," dabbing a wet towel over her face and neck, "you're in for a treat.  It's an Italian dish—dough, sauce, cheeses and toppings, all melted together.  It's terrific and Francesco's makes the best pizza in town."

"Sounds good, Mel," unable to keep his eyes off her, following the path of the towel down her neck towards her chest.  It gave him a funny feeling, this human form he had taken sometimes unsettled him.  It was unsettling him right now, he shifted uncomfortably.

Mel finally noticed his scrutiny, "what?"

"Should I-um-set the table, Mel?"

"That would be nice Cole," patting his arm as she passed him, "I'm going to take a quick shower, and then the bathroom is all yours."

"Okay, Mel."

* * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Mel was greeted by a sight she'd never forget.  Cole had gone all out, setting the table with her grandmother's best china, crystal and silver.  Candles flickered on the table.  He stood there with a big grin on his face, pleased with the results.  After all the trouble he obviously went through, Mel didn't have the heart to tell him she usually used paper plates.  She was saved by her door bell; the delivery from Francesco's was right on time.  She just barely beat Cole to the door.

"I'll handle this;" her hands splayed on his chest, "why don't you just go take your shower, Cole?"

"Okay.  I have some money in my room so you can pay the delivery man."

"How do you know about paying for the pizza?"

"Television commercials," shaking his head, "Nestov suggested I watch a little television.  I sometimes watch the TV in the bar while you sleep."

"Oh," She'd have to have yet another talk with Nestov, who knows what he told Cole to watch.

He headed for the bathroom, stopping at the door, "don't forget the tip, Mel."

Mel bit her tongue stifling her laugh.  She finally opened the door to Francesco's delivery man, tipping him generously for keeping him waiting.  She found a platter big enough for the pizza and poured the soda.  The ice cream she left in the fridge, not even sure Cole would appreciate it.  

He was well worth the wait.  He cleaned up well, having an underwear model's body, you could dress Cole in a burlap sack and he would make it look like Armani.  He neglected to shave, he didn't like doing it himself, but the stubble just added to his appeal.

He pulled her chair out for her, sitting opposite her.  He liked looking at her, she was very beautiful.  Sipping his drink, the carbonation tickled his nose, he choked on his soda.

"Sorry about that, Italian soda has bubbles, just like 7-Up and Coke," she apologized, "I thought you knew that."

"I remember now, Mel," making a face and setting it aside, he excused himself to get some water.  Mel cut through the pizza, gesturing for Cole to help himself.  He reached for his knife and fork, stabbing at the pizza.

"No," she laughed, "you eat it with your fingers, like this."

Picking up a slice of pizza, she demonstrated proper pizza eating technique.  Tugging a slice free, dripping gooey strings of mozzarella, she wrapped the stragglers around her finger, and popped them into her mouth.  

Cole's stomach lurched as she innocently licked her finger clean.  It was so inconvenient when this human body reacted unexpectedly to things Cole barely understood.  Smiling awkwardly, he tried hiding his reaction, but he still fumbled his pizza.  Lifting it carefully, his piece got struck halfway; Mel loosened it with the pizza cutter so he could try again.  It was still hot, trailing strings of cheese.  Imitating Mel, he twirled them around his finger and popped them into his mouth.  Then he began to eat his pizza, crust first.

Mel just barely recovered from the sight of him licking his fingers, and then chortled as he tried getting his mouth around the wrong end of the pizza.

"Why are you laughing?"  Cole's puzzled expression endearing him to Mel, "the commercial people do it this way.  Isn't it right?"

"That's only for stuffed crust pizza," sipping her soda, "most people eat pizza like this."

Turning his piece until it faced his mouth, she picked up her slice and brought it to hers and took a bite.  Cole almost had his to his lips when the cheese and toppings slid off the crust, plopping onto his plate.  Bewildered by food with a mind of its own, he stared from the crust in his hand to the mess on his plate and back.

It was too much for Mel.  Losing it completely, she laughed until her sides ached.  

"Sorry, Mel, for making such a mess," apologizing sheepishly, "you make it look so easy."

"I should have warned you," still catching her breath, "it takes practice.  Sit down and I'll get you another slice."

"I'll try not to drop it," he promised.

Mel could tell he was embarrassed, he refused to make eye contact.  Just like a child does when they know they've done something wrong.  In many ways, Cole was like a child, innocent, honest and caring.  On the other hand, he was very much a man, her protector, her comforter, her----'

No, she wouldn't let her mind drift to that train of thought.  She helped him clean up the greasy mess.  Sitting him down with a clean napkin, she gave him another slice.

"Watch me," instructing him.

Mel folded her pizza lengthwise, and took a big bite.  Cole did the same and was rewarded with the most incredible sensation.  Chewing slowly, he savored each taste, the spicy toppings, gooey cheeses, the tangy sauce and the soft bread crust overwhelming his senses.

Then he smiled his biggest grin yet.

The suspense was killing her.  Mel prodded him to say something, "well, what do you think?"

"This is---"he stopped, trying to find just the right word.

"---Delicious?" she finished his sentence, "or better yet, yummy?"

Yummy, a perfect word, evoking a warm, soothing feeling in the pit of his stomach.  Cole smiled, sucking sauce from his fingers.

"Yes, Mel.  It's definitely yummy," finishing off one slice and reaching for another, "can I have more?"

Mel sat there, mesmerized by Cole's innocent finger licking.  Her turn to shift in her chair.  Why did this attraction she had to Cole have such lousy timing?  Just when she thought she could handle it, Cole would naively do or say something that would set her off.  Blinking to clear her head, she grinned as he demolished another piece of pizza, crust and all.

"Aren't you going to have another slice?" he asked, through a mouthful of pizza, sliding the platter her way, "eat, Mel."

Rather than remind him to watch his manners, she took another slice and enjoyed his company.

The End   


End file.
